Harry Potter and the Magical Virtue
by psychodraco
Summary: The war is raging full force and our favorite characters are in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry's nerves are worse than ever, with constant worry that the Dark Lord will invade his brain in an attempt to foil the Order. Draco world is crashing down, a


**Note to readers: This story has been posted for awhile now, and I've only gotten one review. There is more written, but I won't be posting it unless I know someone's reading it so R/R! Please!**

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****Chapter 1**

Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter stood in front of the mirror, glancing up at his blurry reflection before putting on his glasses. His face came into focus, a thin face with piercing green eyes staring back at him. He had just awoken from a restless night's sleep and was attempting to tame his wild hair; a useless task.

He headed down the boy's dormitory staircase, through the Gryffindor common room without looking up to see who was there, and down to the first floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He entered the Great Hall just in time for breakfast.

"Mornin' Harry," said Ron Weasley, his best friend since he started coming to school here almost six years ago. As Harry approached the Gryffindor table, he noticed that Ron's flaming red hair seemed extra radiant this morning. Looking up at the enchanted ceiling, he realized this was because of the brilliant sun shining down on them, reflected from the beautiful spring day outside.

Their other good friend, Hermione Granger, peered over the book she was holding to greet Harry. When she saw him, the look on her face went from concentration to concern.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" she asked, seeing the worry on his face and the circles under his eyes.

"Rough night," was all the response he felt was necessary. Hermione sighed.

"You've been having a lot of those recently, haven't you?" she asked.

Harry was already beginning to get annoyed. He knew she was only trying to be considerate and helpful, but he certainly was not in the mood for the third degree. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had a troubled sleep and a tremendous headache, now she was going to make him _talk about his feelings?_

"I don't really want to discuss this right now. Let's eat, shall we?" he said briskly.

"Harry, you really need to talk to your best friends about this sort of thing! It's not good to keep things bottled up inside of you, as you so often tend to do. You've been avoiding the subject for far too long as it is—"

"FINE!" He cut her off. "You want me to talk? I'll talk. I can't sleep because I feel like every time I close my eyes, Voldemort is inside my head. I can't sleep because I feel vulnerable; that anytime I do, he'll make me do whatever he sees fit! I could KILL someone! Occlumency my arse…I can't sleep because he's back. Voldemort is BACK, and there is a war going on AS WE SPEAK!"

He paused and looked around. Most of the Gryffindors had discontinued their conversations and now had taken to staring at him with their mouths open. This was partially because he was speaking rather loudly and partially because he had just said the word "Voldemort" quite vociferously as well. He turned to look the other way and saw that some of the Ravenclaws were staring too.

"Sorry…" he muttered. He then turned briskly and strutted out into the Entrance Hall.

When Harry reached the Entrance Hall, he collapsed against the nearest stone pillar, breathing heavily. He _had _to stop losing control in public like that. It was bad enough that half of Hogwarts expected Voldemort to appear at any moment and murder him without the added fear from his outbursts. Between Trelawny's continuing daily deathpredictions and the Ministry of Magic being nowhere _near_ stopping Voldemort, Harry needed to show strength and confidence to all, including himself.

He looked down at his watch. _Great, _he thought to himself. _Time for my favorite class…_

He headed back into the Great Hall to retrieve his books as the other students began spilling out into the Entrance Hall. He was looking down at the floor so as not to see the curious stares from the other students when he collided with a nearby Slytherin.

"UGH! Watch it, Potter!" He heard the voice of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy. He looked up, expecting to see a look of loathing and disgust, but instead saw one of worry and depression. This immediately struck Harry as very odd, seeing as how he had never seen anything but detestable, arrogant glares on the face of his foe. It kind of made a nice change... He decided to ignore this detail because of his preoccupation, and continued back to the Gryffindor table to repossess his bag.

After taking leave of the Great Hall once again, Harry veered down the stairs by himself, toward the dungeons. Heading down a small stone corridor, he heard a vaguely familiar voice whimper. He paused, thinking that the sound had come from ahead. He took a few more steps and came tothe door of a boy's toilet he had never noticed before. A snivel and a sniff…someone inside this bathroom was crying.

Harry pushed the door open and the crying suddenly stopped. Someone sniffed, cleared their throat, and boldly asked, "Who's there?"

Harry said nothing. "Well, you should just leave. This toilet is out of order." Harry just stood there; he was _sure _he knew that voice…but it couldn't be. Or could it?

He walked around to the first stall, where he had perceived the person to be. He pushed the door open. It was.

There, sitting on the back of the toilet with puffy eyes, was Draco Malfoy.


End file.
